


Of Death and Rebirth

by bluemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemermaid/pseuds/bluemermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She is perfect.  She is not who she ought to be, but she is perfect for the molding.  He grins at her, feral.  “Come with me,” he says, and he knows that she will not dare to disobey.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Death and Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://samhain-smut.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://samhain-smut.livejournal.com/)**samhain_smut**.

 

It was cold in the forest, but Pansy felt nothing but the intensity of warmth, like a rush of boiling water being poured over her head. The man in the dark robes had his hands on her bare skin, his fingers rubbing rough circles into her hips, and she was shivering and burning all at once.

He barely looked at her, simply dragged her into the middle of a circle of dying trees, and commanded her to stop. “Here,” he said brusquely, his gaze traveling around them, dark eyes scanning their surroundings. It was silent and deserted. They were the only people there, man and woman alone in the forest amongst the bark and soil and the multi-coloured leaves scattered at Pansy's feet. “Reveal yourself, pretty girl.” His smile was dangerous, cast in shadow. His hands landed on her shoulders, pushing the robe off her back.

A low rock sat in the center of the clearing. Its surface was smooth and bright, like a shimmering pool of water in the darkness. Several rows of runes had been carved into it already, but they were so dark that Pansy didn't even realize they were there until Rodolphus had pushed her onto them, the deep jagged edges biting into her skin. She'd never taken an Ancient Runes class, but she had a general idea of what lay beneath her. Another shiver passed through her veins; goosebumps rose along her arms and legs. Still, she boiled, and writhed in the heat pooling between her thighs.

Rodolphus's hands roved over Pansy's body, appreciating the tight black corset hugging her curves. “Beautiful,” he said, taking care as he rolled Pansy over and began to tug at the laces, freeing her from the binding material and exposing more of her skin to the cool autumn night. “We'll have to keep this one.” Dead leaves crunched below as the corset was dropped upon them. “I've chosen well.”

Delight raced through Pansy's bloodstream; her eyes widened and a brief stabbing pain electrified her heart. “You have,” she whispered, breathless and eager, spreading her legs across the wide expanse of rock. She arched her back, aching and wanting, filled to the brim with lust and anticipation, and the sharp edge of fear below it. She liked the fear; it gave such a thrilling edge to the moment, alone in the woods with a dark stranger. She had always liked the fear.

_He spies her from across the room, little girl with her hair a mess, lopsided mask covering her face. She is trying so hard to be poised and proper, standing tall in the corner with an expression of disdain, but when he touches her he can feel the frisson of fear ripple through her body, and he is immediately aroused by it. He has always liked the fear._

_She is perfect. She is not who she ought to be, but she is perfect for the molding. He grins at her, feral. “Come with me,” he says, and he knows that she will not dare to disobey._

It was the way he looked at her, dark eyes gazing into her soul and laughing, silently, at the little girl within her. He saw Pansy Parkinson both as a woman and a vessel; she had the mocking grin and the dark shadows looming over each shoulder, but she also had a spark of innocence, of emptiness, of terror and guilt and the desperate need to start over.

And so she would start over.

Rodolphus shed his own robes and Pansy let her eyes drink in the sight of him, craning her neck over one shoulder to appreciate the man behind her. He was gaunt, starving, with dark wrinkled scars crossing his torso, memoirs of the recent past. Still, he was alluring, as power radiated off his skin like a wave, rays of invisible sunlight burning Pansy's skin. Somehow he retained his might, the strength of a warrior, even as the war had beaten him down and sent him into hiding. He had avoided the prison cell, but he was a wanted man, his devastating grin leering out from yellowing posters across the city. He was a wanted man, but he had emerged from the shadows on this most important night, and he had come for Pansy, stealing her from Malfoy Manor like the reaper himself, claiming his next victim. And Pansy had come willingly, dancing beside him as a rat following the piper, baring herself in the silent night and aching for him to take her away, in every way possible.

She whined as he stood there, watching her, with his arms dangling by his sides and his legs spread in the carpet of fallen leaves. “Please,” she begged him, squirming on her perch, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as the need washed over her. Her fingers slipped between her legs, playing over her hot wet lips and the burning core within them. “Please.”

_He takes her hand and sweeps her out over the dance floor, leading her into an intricate dance that is the envy of all in attendance. His hands move over her body, possessing her, acquainting himself with her every curve and muscle, his thumbs rolling over the delicate bones of her wrists._

_“Samhain is the night of death and rebirth,” he says to her, whispering in her ear as they spin and twirl and cling tighter to one another beneath the flickering fairy lights. “Will you become mine tonight, pretty girl?”_

_She looks at him for a moment, silently, her lips slightly parted. He nearly kisses her then, but restrains himself, for it will taste so much sweeter later. He does not doubt for a moment, but still a rush of heady pleasure consumes him when she responds. “Yes, please.”_

Shadows flickered across the trees, and the rustling of the leaves cast eerie echoes around them, but all Pansy could feel was a desperate impatience, as the moment stretched on and she waited. She felt, briefly, as though she would be there forever, perched on a rock with her body exposed to the elements, alone and delirious with the combination of freezing heat on her skin. She waited, and then suddenly he was upon her, his large hands sliding along her body, gripping and teasing her nipples before making their way further south. She pressed herself against him, felt his hardness brush against her leg and gasped, her heart racing and skipping to an erratic beat as he moved.

“Are you ready?” he asked, one hand gripping her waist as he positioned himself behind her. Pansy opened her mouth to respond but he didn't wait for her, of course he wouldn't wait, she was the vessel and she had no true say in it, she was simply the body and Rodolphus the claimant. His cock pushed against her, met a brief resistance and then plunged, sliding deep within her in one fluid motion.

A gasp turned into a moan, as Pansy twisted in his grasp. He had both hands on her waist now, fingers burning her skin. It hurt at first, as though she were being torn open, and she hissed loudly through her teeth, the sound echoing around them. It was so dark Pansy could barely see anything around her, just the hint of trees pressing in and the muted colours of the leaves below. But sight did not matter, as feel was everything; she felt Rodolphus pull out of her slowly and then thrust inside of her again, moving more quickly as he grew adjusted to her body.

And then it was wonderful, burning buzzing sensation filling Pansy to the brim with pleasure, satisfying rhythm of in and out, full and empty and deliciously full again. Her breasts brushed against the rock below, the cold stone with its magical mark upon it, but such roughness was only an additional bonus, another feeling to make Pansy moan and quiver.

He rocked with her roughly, grunting as he leaned hard against her, gripping her so tightly that she would be sure to bruise. Pansy wriggled and writhed and arched upwards, silently begging for more. And he gave her more, thrusting harder and harder, til Pansy felt nothing but the slick hard warmth of his cock inside of her, pushing and probing and filling her with burning bright ecstasy. Her clit burned and she sloppily pressed two fingers against it, slipping in her own juices as she pulled and pinched and twisted. The combination of cock within and fingers without was blinding, and long low moans tore from her throat, the bursting escape of pleasure through her mouth.

A wave was growing closer, and as Pansy approached the edge she felt the rock warming beneath her, and a flickering light gleamed from the runes carved into the surface. The air seemed to press in on her, the chill breeze of the forest stilling as a creeping tendril of magic began to seep into the clearing. Above her, Roldolphus gasped, and slowed his pace briefly, before slamming back into the hard thrusting rhythm that was bringing Pansy so close to the brink. “Need to turn you around, pretty girl,” he hummed, in a thin voice broken with gasps of pleasure, with labored breath.

Pansy cried out when he slipped away from her, moved his hands up her torso and forcefully spun her, so that her back pressed hard against the rock's surface, with its hot green magic spilling around her. “Oh,” she cried, as Rodolphus pulled her roughly towards him, and pushed into her again, his cock slipping right back in as though it had never left her. Pansy lifted her legs and placed them on either side of his head; this new position created a thrilling new friction against her clit, as his cock slid hard against the edge of her cunt. “Oh, please,” she gasped, as the rushing sensation of impending orgasm began anew. “Oh, please, come with me.”

_”Come with me,” he says, taking her by the hands, and leading her through the winding corridors until they emerge into the cool autumn night, where the full moon shines brightly above them and the forest waits in the distance. “Come with me into the night, and we shall begin anew.”_

He can see her there already, as Pansy smiles and looks off into the night. He can see her, and he is desperate to have her there beside him once more. She never truly loved him, but love is of no consequence to Rodolphus Lestrange. He merely wants his partner in crime, laughing beside him, dancing into danger with insanity on her lips. He wants to fuck her again.

Roldolphus began chanting something in between thrusts, some tumbling cascade of Latin spell words hissing from his lips, delicate language threaded amongst animal grunts and moaning. Pansy didn't know the words, but she could barely hear them anyway, lost in the fire of teetering on the edge. She felt as though she were standing on the lip of a cliff, staring down into a raging sea, the ocean with a ring of flames dancing on the surface. She wanted so badly to dive into that sea, to give herself completely to the purity of that feeling, the release. Her pleasure was burning her, knives licking at every inch of her body, racing flames scalding her heart. She whined, and the magic was boiling around her, blue and green lights flashing behind her eyelids.

“Come with me,” he groaned, fucking Pansy's body as hard as he possibly could, calling up to the dark sky for the magic and spirit of Samhain to fulfill him. Samhain was the night of death and rebirth, and it was a magic older than time itself, a magic long lost to the ages and believed impossible. But Roldolphus was a man on the run, a wasted and a lost man, and he had nothing if he could not believe in the impossible. Pansy knew all of this, and she believed alongside him, for she could not live the life that had been chosen for her. She couldn't live up to the ideal of a proper Pureblood woman, with the shadows of war still lingering under her eyes. It was better this way, to give herself to an alluring man with death on his lips. It was a chance for rebirth, to come back as someone better.

Pansy stopped thinking any coherent thoughts whatsoever, as the explosion overcame her and she shrieked into the night, sobbing as pain and pleasure converged within her, as joyous orgasm rocked her body and dark magic tore into her soul. Her head swam and burst as her body felt consumed by fire, burning black and blistering. Rodolphus was coming as well, pressing her deeply into the runes eating her alive. Pansy felt her head splitting open as wave after wave of pleasure rocked her core, and she cried out, desperate to feel so alive forever, not knowing what was happening to her but hoping, somehow, that she was going to emerge from the flames as someone new.

And then the night was silent. Somewhere, a cricket chirped, just once. Wind breezed through the wooded clearing, sending a handful of dying leaves into the air, where they spun briefly before dropping back lifelessly to the dirt. Rodolphus lay panting over the still female beneath him, their bodies clinging to one another with tired fingers and sweat. An eerie chill settled over them, invisible fog on a cold autumn night. Somewhere far above, the moon was full, hidden by a canopy of crooked, bare tree branches. The aura of magic was in the air.

Rodolphus lifted his head and looked down at the girl beneath him, who lay as if in sleep. He caressed her face, marveling at her. She did not look like the one he truly wanted, but she had a beauty of her own, youth and pale skin and darkness. She had felt amazing around his cock, and her cries of pleasure had been like music. She would do; if Samhain had worked its magic, she would do.

Pansy's eyes fluttered and Rodolphus felt a stabbing shot of pain in his heart, an anticipation that was nearly as pleasurable as the sex had been just moments previously. He looked upon her, and met her gaze with stoicism, his emotions roiling away invisibly beneath the surface.

He looked upon her, and Pansy's eyes looked back, narrow under heavy lids and gleaming. “Hello, lover,” she slurred, her voice twisted and sharp in the darkness. She grinned at him, and Rodolphus, with a surge of victory, grinned back.  



End file.
